


inhabitants

by pusa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Experimental Style, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pusa/pseuds/pusa
Summary: Picture this: you kiss him and the stars inside his mouth spill out and burns you. You have grown to love the feeling.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	inhabitants

**Author's Note:**

> to my lovely meg!! i hope you enjoy this!!
> 
> inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/conceptsbot/status/1290990801410052096) from conceptsbot which says: "please turn into stars in love" !! this was just a lil experimental fic so I hope you enjoy reading it <3 !

Picture this:

 **PLANET NAME:** KRSN-1092

 **INHABITANTS:** 20

 **DESCRIPTION:** There exists a supersonic cold wind that blows through. Sights of light snow and precipitation. It is among the hottest of the planets in the galaxy. It is a bright orange with sights of blue, maybe water. A thick atmosphere lays around the planet. It is among the top twenty in the _Largest Planets in the Galaxy_. Not sure of the rank itself. There are rings around it, of course, although not that visible. It shines and sparkles, like diamonds (if that is the term), glittered yellow.

“In... habitants?”

Yellow turns to Green with a nod, not minding that he was interrupted. “Yes. Inhabitants.”

“What is ‘inhabitants’?”

“Oh.” Yellow blinks in surprise. “It is what you call the number of who live.”

“Oh.” Green says in return and then looks down, at where his flowing, water-like feet swing by the eternal abyss. “Is that us?”

“Yes,” confirms Yellow. The information had been forgotten in his mind, that he was one billion lightyears older. Or maybe the term was ‘created’. All he knows was that he was here first, long before Green had come into existence.

“We are the inhabitants.”

They both stay quiet as they stare at the vast dark space ahead of them, littered with stars and planets, some uninhabited due to their temperatures a little too hot or a little too cold. Sometimes, it was only inhabited by one; a selfish star, wanting a planet for itself. Yellow hates those type of inhabitants.

Here, in KRSN-1092, it was just all right. Not too hot. Not too cold. Not too many people. Not too little people, too. Yellow likes how the people here are just right. Like Green. And Blue. Oh. That reminds him.

“I have also thought of,” he starts and does not look when Green does. “Names.”

“Names?”

Yellow nods and turns to him, fiery and cold at the same time. His hands, resting against the warm exterior of the planet, twitch and then curl. “Yes. Names. It is for acknowledging one another. A label for something if you will.”

“Label?”

Yellow frowns. Well, it is all right. Green asking him on and on about things he does not know never bothers him. “You see, we cannot keep referring to each other as Yellow or Green. A label is like an official way to call you. You do know there are lots of Yellow here?”

Green smiles, the small galaxies on his cheeks twinkling and roaring. “Ah, yes. You are Yellow number two, yes?”

“Yes,” Yellow frowns. “I do not like that. I am proposing later for all of us to have names.”

“Or labels,” Green adds, and Yellow nods, even if they are the same thing. Well, almost. “Have you thought of one?”

Yellow hums and cranes his neck, looks up at the planet above them. SJH-56. It was a beautiful blue color. Or maybe it was teal. It seemed to be cold there, with its inhabitants constantly flying out and circling around KRSN-1092, to warm themselves up and then to leave. It looks to be teal now, although Yellow does not really know what teal actually looks like. Yellow forgot. Ah, wait.

“Yes,” he confirms and turns to Green. “Frog.”

“Frog.” Green repeats and he turns to the abyss again, the stars following him with a shine, illuminating him beautifully. “Does it have any meaning for you?”

“No,” Frog says simply. “But it is a funny word, no? And I believe it is a wonderful color. Frogs are green, from what I have remembered.”

“Green?” Green muses, turning to him with a grin, stars spilling out of his mouth like laughter. “You think I am wonderful then?”

Frog turns to him and gives him a weird look. “Do I have to say that? You should know that you are wonderful yourself.”

Green’s stars shine brightly, making Frog squint his eyes a little. This happens frequently, after a bit of talking with Green, his stars, be it on his teeth or on his cheeks, shine so brightly that it hurts Frog’s eyes. Green looks away, the stars twinkling and shining. “I see,” he smiles down and hums, stars dancing around him. He feels a little too warm, his heat drafting onto Frog like a magnet. Frog is not sure if that is the right term. Magnet. Hm.

“Well,” Green starts again and turns to him, stars spilling out his eyes then as his color burns even brighter. “I would like to be labeled as Yam.”

“Yam?” Frog laughs and leans against his hands. “What is that?”

“I do not know,” Yam laughs, the stars around him giggling with him. “But it is a good one, yes?”

“For a name?” Frog asks and looks down at his hands, at the fire that ignites slowly. “It seems so. It is not any better than Frog, though.”

Yam laughs loudly, head leaned back as the stars endlessly follow him. Frog stares at him and feels a smile form. “And it is called names, by the way,” Frog adds on, which makes Yam laugh more, the stars getting louder and hotter. “Oh, stop laughing, will you.”

“My apologies, Frog,” Yam giggles, proceeding to lay on the planet. Yam is green—this is a given—but his eyes are a bright, watery blue, spilling down his star-covered cheeks. The blue against the bright stars were pretty. Sometimes, Frog would look at him and wonder what color his stars would be. Sometimes, it was orange, like the planet. Sometimes, it was blue, like his eyes. Sometimes, it was yellow, bright, and hypnotizing. Most times, however, it was green, a beautiful contrast against the blue yet blends beautifully against his skin. A dark green, if he was a bit frowning that day (sadness, if Frog remembers correctly). Light, bright green if he was happy (see, Frog remembers that one). Today, it seems to fluctuate between light green and blue. Frog hopes it is green for now.

“You are just very weird and funny,” Yam explains and Frog frowns, eyes rolling as he turns to the abyss again. He sees a funny-looking star. He ignores it.

On his fourth eye, he sees Yam close his eyes and hum.

Ah. Did that surprise you?

Gray had explained to Frog then, why he has four eyes. He said it was because he could not see well with his first two and had grown the other two, to help him see clearly. Frog had nodded and accepted it, learned to use the other pair on its own, to help with his surroundings. Sometimes, other planets would attack them, and Frog was the tallest. Or maybe it was strongest.

Frog stays quiet. Yam sleeps beside him. Sleep is the correct term, Frog believes. Gray was the one who taught him these terms, yet he did not have the inkling to ask him how he knows these terms. Maybe later. After his proposal of names, he will ask them.

The inhabitants of KRSN-1092 like the proposal of names. Frog tries not to let it show that he is smug, but he is. Yam grins at him, stars accenting the corners of his mouth before he turns to Orange.

Gray calls himself Tofu. It is a wonderful name, Frog thinks. Suits him nicely.

Black Number One chose Dai. Or maybe it was Daichi. Frog does not quite remember.

There were a lot of names said. Noya. Baldie. Giant (this one made Frog laugh). Egg (Frog does not understand why Blue would name himself Egg). And countless others.

Frog thinks his name and Yam’s are the best ones.

Frog watches as Yam stands by the sides of the planet and wonders if he is going to leave, or maybe, going to jump. He watches as Yam blows out some stars and then some more. They are of different colors, blue, yellow, red.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Yam hums. The hum yams. Frog lets out a soft chuckle at that and Yam turns to him. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Frog reassures him, and Yam blows a star towards him. Frog holds out of his hand and looks at it, hot and bright on his hands made of fire. “Why are you carelessly throwing out stars?”

“It is not careless,” Yam huffs and for some reason, he throws out more stars. Frog feels like scratching his head. Tofu once said that is what you do when you feel like you have done or said something you should not have. “Is it not all right to give out to the galaxies once in a while? I do believe that the galaxy just cannot have ‘too many’ stars.”

“I’m not contradicting you,” replies Frog and stands beside Yam. “I think what you’re doing is wonderful. It would be nice to give out stars as well.”

“Would you like to?” Yam smiles, bright stars on his cheeks, and spilling by his mouth. Frog wants to catch those stars with his mouth. Frog wonders then, what it would like to kiss (if that was the word, he would have to ask Tofu later) Yam and to feel a thousand bursts of burning stars inside his mouth. He would not mind feeling that burning.

“Frog?” Yam asks and Frog blinks, looks away from the stars on his mouth. The fire on his hands moves to his cheeks.

“Sorry,” answers Frog and glances at him. “What was it you said again?”

“I asked if you would like to give out stars.”

“What do you mean?”

Yam doesn’t answer and instead walks a little closer. “Give me your hands.”

Frog hesitates. He offers out his hands and Yam smiles at him, the stars flying out to him. They kiss his cheeks. Yam walks a little closer and brushes his hands against Frog’s. The stars spill out from his palms and wander to his palms, the stars heavy and hot.

“Oh.” Frog breathes out. “They’re so hot. And heavy.”

“Yes,” Yam chuckles, giving him more. “You are made of fire, yet you think these stars are hot?”

“I’m made of fire, but I am still a bit of a moon,” Frog explains and smiles when Yam looks at him in confusion. “Did that make any sense?”

“No,” Yam laughs softly and then drops his hands. “Just throw them. They’ll leave you.”

Frog does not want to say that he already got attached, and yet. He throws the stars, the heat and heaviness leaving him. He watches in wonder as the stars fly off everywhere, different shades of yellow illuminating the darkness. His mouth parts, fire slowly seeping out as he continues to look in on wonder.

“This is beautiful,” he breathes out and looks at Yam. “You are a galaxy of your own.”

“Ah, do not say that,” Yam rolls his eyes, stars circling around his head. His eyelashes are littered with stars. “Do not disrespect the galaxy.”

“I am not,” Frog answers quickly and follows a lone star he threw, slow and not knowing where to go. “No one here has stars inside of them, only you.”

“Well,” Yam says, after a moment, looking down at his feet. “That is true.”

Frog smiles, satisfied. “Come,” he says, and Yam looks at him, stars on eyelashes, his eyes flutter, maybe like a butterfly’s. “Let’s walk.”

They are called kisses. When you press your mouth against another’s.

Tofu says you do it when you love someone.

“Love?” Frog had asked loudly, looking at Tofu in question. Tofu only smiled at him; his smile as warm as a hundred stars.

“Love,” Tofu explained, eyes far away. “Is something you experience, Frog. You will find it one day.”

Frog thinks that is a bit stupid.

“Love?” Yam asks, hands placed on his feet as he stretches, bent. “What is that?”

“I do not know,” Frog explains, playing with his fire of hands. “Tofu says it is something you experience.”

“Really?” Yam asks and then stays quiet when Frog makes a noise of affirmation.

“Frog,” Yam straightens up and smiles at him. “I think you are love!”

The fire inside of him burns and Frog looks at him weirdly. “What are you talking about?”

“You said it is something we experience, yes?” Yam confirms and then grins when Frog nods. Stars spill out. Frog follows them, follows as they fly away to the dark vastness. He wants to kiss Yam. “Then you are love.”

“Do you experience me?” Frog asks, confused. “I believe that is not the appropriate way to use ‘love’.”

“How so?”

“Like,” Frog tries to remember what Tofu said. “I love you.”

Yam hums. And then hums. “All right,” says he.

Frog stays quiet.

It rains comets and stars.

Yam and Frog watch, sitting on the middle of KRSN-1092, heads turned upwards to watch the flurry of fire and rock and color. They sit close to each other, fire touching star. Yellow and orange meeting green and blue. Frog looks up at the storm of comets and stars and—breathes.

“Do you know what a kiss is?” asks Frog, blurted out. He bites on his bottom lip, warm and harsh against fire.

“A kiss?” repeats Yam and Frog glances at him with his fourth eye. He is still looking up at the storm, his yellow eyelashes, brushing gently against his cheeks. His stars kiss each other. “I think I do. Why?”

Flashes of gray and red and orange and yellow. The warmth of a million stars. The rain of small rocks.

“Would you like to try?”

The fire inside of him burns and pulses. The planet beneath them burns and pulses. The orange against yellow. The blue against green.

“Frog?”

Frog turns to him. The stars spilling out of Yam’s mouth drifts and flies away to join the storm. Some fly out to kiss Frog on his cheeks, on the corner of his mouth. Reds and oranges illuminate Yam beautifully. Beautiful. Hm.

“Beautiful,” Frog breathes out before he blinks, shaking himself a little. “Would you like to try one? A kiss, I mean.”

“Hm,” Yam hums. “All right.”

Frog has grown to be used to what fire and heat feels like, having made one himself (despite being a moon, of course). Frog has grown to know what fire feels like, fire burning inside of him, outside of him, around of him. Frog knows what heat tastes like; what fire tastes like.

And yet.

Yam kisses him and stars spill out and burn Frog’s mouth. Stars meet fire. Hm. Fire meets fire?

Frog’s mouth burns and he tilts his head a little, lets their mouth touch each other more, to feel each other more. Frog opens his mouth a little, despite the burning, and Yam does too. Stars dance and fly away inside his mouth and it burns—burns a whole lot more than Frog had thought.

It feels nice. He could get used to this. To the excessive burning and fire. To the softness of Yam. To the feel of a kiss.

Frog wants to kiss him a lot.

Yam pulls away and gasps. “Oh no! I am so sorry, Frog!”

Frog blinks. Brings a hand to his mouth. A star falls to his palm. Hot.

“It’s all right,” mumbles he, looking at Yam. The stars on his cheeks are bright blue and he smiles. “Very hot?”

Yam’s hands come up to cover his cheeks and he smiles. “That felt nice, Frog.”

“It did,” smiles Frog. He wants to feel the stars burning inside his mouth again.

Tofu says visiting other planets is good. He says it is Yam’s turn to visit other planets.

Yam had turned to Frog with stars spilling out his eyes, excitement (the word of the day) radiating off of him. Frog realizes what he meant when Yam was a galaxy of his own. He realizes so much and wants to kiss him again.

“Tofu,” he calls out and the other turns to him with a smile. “Are you sure it is all right to visit today? It just stormed yesterday.”

“Ah, no worries, Frog,” Tofu assures him and glances at Yam, talking giddily with Giant. “There will be no storms today, I will be accompanying Yam as we visit.”

“Oh,” Frog mumbles and wonders why his chest (or his fire of a chest) burns a little painfully. “I see. Well, have fun. Please keep an eye on him.”

Frog has seen a supernova only once.

It was frightening. It was beautiful. It was loud. It was heavy.

It happened by SHTZ-1876, a white star and a red star. (Maybe they were lovers, too.)

It was wonderful, in a painful kind of way. Yam (who was named Green then) had gasped and made Frog look upwards. It was the start of a supernova unraveling.

A change in the core. In the center. In the heart of the star.

It was large and loud. The white star had slowly yet surely taken all of the red’s matter, the light between then thinner and thinner and then—an array of white and red in front of him, exploding. Frog’s ears had rung for the first time, then. He had experienced what was like to be rid of your hearing, yet for the sight in front of you to be so beautiful that you cannot stop, you cannot stop to cover your ears, to hide.

It was blinding, yes, but it looked so beautiful. Frog had let the heat of his body overflow, making its way onto the planet itself and had only stopped, had only broken out of his stare when he felt a touch on his shoulder, a star’s touch.

KRSN-1092 burned a little more that day.

Frog experiences a supernova for the second time.

For the first time since he was created, Frog felt coldness.

Yam was slowing down, lightyears behind Tofu almost.

Oh. Frog realizes, this feeling of—feeling of dread, feeling of heaviness, like he is about to sink into the core of their planet.

He watches, slow, frozen, unmoving, as Yam slows to a stop, sees the flow of mass into his core, the full stop he makes, and then—he meets Frog’s gaze.

 _Frog!_ he can hear him scream, a million lightyears away. Frog wants to fly.

 _Frog!_ his voice was always littered with stars too.

_Frog! Do not forget about me!_

_Frog! Do not forget! I love you! You are love!_

_Frog! Do not be sad!_

Sad? Was Frog sad? The fire inside his heart turns red and red. It feels cold and it burns.

_I will come back! Think of the stars! I am there! Not too many stars, right?_

Yam is beautiful.

He collapses, a million lightyears away, in front of Frog.

He shines brightly, hot and large. He had always been a beautiful green and blue.

Frog watches.

Yam is a million lightyears away, and yet.

Frog can still his heat.

Green and blue explode in front of him, littered with smaller stars that shine brighter and brighter.

Frog watches.

And then, he burns.

A star softly flies towards him. Frog opens up his hands, fire meets fire.

“Yam,” he manages to utter out. It has been years since then. The cold in his chest has not left. The fire inside his chest burns and burns, getting painful and painful.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

Frog keeps the star close to him, close to his chest, and whispers, “I will always look for you, my star, my light.”

“Tsukki!” Tadashi says loudly, voice echoing around the empty museum as he looks down at his phone with bewilderment. “Why did you kill _me_?”

“I didn’t,” Kei says flatly, looking around if Taki, the main security guard, was around. “And who said you were Yam?”

Tadashi looks at him blankly and shows his phone, showing an open document. “Look! You killed _me_ , Tsukki! Me! Tadashi, your best friend! Your everything!”

“Oh, shut it,” Kei groans, walking closer to him and Tadashi stands up from the ground, almost leaning against a statue. “You have been here for how long, yet you still manage to disrespect some artworks.”

Tadashi stands up and Kei’s hand moves on its own and finds Tadashi’s. Their fingers slot seamlessly against each other and Tadashi grins up at him. “Sorry, Tsukki!”

“Ah, shut up,” Kei murmurs and pulls him closer. “Let’s just go. I’m hungry.”

“Of course, Kei,” Tadashi lets out a small laugh and Kei imagines that his ears aren’t burning. “I do have some questions regarding Frog and Yam. Are you going to pass this one?”

“Probably,” Kei mumbles and locks eyes with Taki, giving him a nod and a wave. “We’ll be leaving now, Taki-san.”

Taki grins at them, bright and sleepy, and then gives them a thumbs-up. “Take care, Tsukishima!”

Tadashi gives him a bright smile and a wave in return before they walk towards the exit. “I’ll probably work on the dinosaur one next.”

“Oh!” Tadashi gasps, eyes bright and beautiful. “That was a good one, too, Kei. I’ll help you later if you want to.”

Kei looks at Tadashi and wonders if looking at him is the same as what a supernova feels like.

“All right,” he says and pulls Tadashi impossibly closer, gripping onto his hand tightly. “I want ramen.”

Kei looks behind again, at the empty museum and smiles. Beside him, Tadashi rambles about electricity and light and supernovas and dinosaurs.

Behind him, behind KeiandTadashi, the light flickers.

**Author's Note:**

> felt like i was back in 2016, writing about tsukkiyama and galaxies hehe x)
> 
>  **EDIT 12/21:** ok that’s a lie im editing this on 2021 BUTTTT someone very very lovely [drew fanart](https://twitter.com/lesbiantsukki/status/1340947242232901633?s=21) for this fic!!! <3 <3 please please support the artist and look at how beautiful yam and frog is... its literally everything to me.. exactly like how i see my beautiful frog and yam *sobs* thank you again kira for the wonderful art.. <3


End file.
